


Exhibitionniste

by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Exhibitionism, Fur, M/M, Masturbation, Nude Photos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Mitch buys an expensive Gucci coat in Paris.





	

Mitch arches his back, pushing his ass out so the fur bunches at the small of his back, leaving him exposed and on display. He pulls the sides of the coat forward and straightens his legs, and he can feel the weight of a pair of eyes on him. His brain whips into overdrive, multiplying that feeling by a hundred, by a million—the artificial shutter sound cuts through the silence and sends a shiver racing across Mitch’s bared skin. He tilts his torso forward as much as he can without overbalancing, rolling his hips to make his ass look a little more curvaceous, a little fuller.

The fur is too warm for the cozy bedroom, but it’s so soft, so decadent that Mitch is loath to take it off. There’s something sexy about it, something Mitch can’t even define for himself, but he doesn’t much care to pick apart his own reasons. It feels good, and it’s turning him on even more to be cloaked in such expensive fur than it is to be photographed in it, and that’s all that matters.

He leans further forward, bracing one hand against the wall, and looks over his shoulder with a pout. The camera clicks again, and Mitch continues to move and pose. He drags his free hand up the back of his thigh and palms his ass, pulls his cheeks apart to expose his hole. This is dangerous, these kinds of photos. It’s one thing to pose nude, but it’s another to shove his ass at a camera lens. The thrill of it is worth it, though. The risk is what makes it fun. Exciting. That and the idea that thousands of people might one day see him this way. They might all soon know what his ass looks like and what Mitch looks like when he’s aroused, when he’s ready to beg to be fucked. He pushes his middle finger closer and rubs it against his entrance. A tease both for himself and for the camera.

Mitch can’t balance like this for long, though. He drops gracefully to his knees, bouncing slightly as he settles his weight, and assumes a new pose, this time with his torso straight and his head tilted back. He lets the coat sag and gape around his neck, waits until he hears the camera’s shutter noise, then drops the coat down to his elbows. It covers his ass now, but exposes his shoulder blades, and Mitch arches his back again so they jut out into sharp points like wings brushing against the pink fur.

After another few poses, Mitch lets the garment slide off his arms and puddle around his thighs. The fur tickles the backs of his knees. He pauses, long enough to make it clear he wants a photo of this moment. The shutter clicks. Mitch then yanks the coat around and spreads it open on the bed. He rearranges himself and lies down on top of it, so he can rub his cheek into the soft dyed hairs. The warmth of it seeps through his body, giving him such a stark contrast between his front and the chilled air at his back that it sends another shiver racing to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He moans and rolls his hips—he won’t let his cock touch the fur; he still has enough sense about him to avoid ruining such an expensive new Gucci purchase—but the bedsheets are another story. Mitch can feel the wet spot growing beneath him as his cock leaks precome. He clenches a fist in a handful of pink sleeve and breathes in the scent of it. It’s like lying on a pile of money, but so much more comfortable. The decadence is tangible.

Mitch won’t touch himself. Not when he’s so stimulated in other ways. The heaviness of the camera following his every movement, the luxurious warmth of the fur coat, the scent of sex and perfume and cigarettes… That’s enough. He rocks his hips and rubs himself against the sheets, and before long he’s coming, his face pressed into the coat, his breath coming in short gasps. Every second of it was caught on camera, in still images at least, and as Mitch comes down from the high of his orgasm, he already can’t wait to flick through the photos later tonight. He sighs and shoves a hand beneath himself, palming his cock and smearing the come into his skin. Maybe he’ll wait to look at the pictures until after he’s taken a few more.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
